


The Walk

by lindsey_grissom



Series: After Hours [1]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Post-Series, Pre-Downton: The Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 23:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20218150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: First in a series of ficlets set between the end of the series and the film (once Mr Carson has retired and Mrs Carson has not) showing moments between our favourite couple when the work day is over.Mrs Carson heads home for the evening.





	The Walk

“Goodnight Mrs Hughes.”

Elsie smiled as she passed by the kitchen, the young cook elbow deep in soap water. “Goodnight Daisy.”

Tucking her scarf in beneath the collar of her coat she stepped out into the cold air.

Breath puffing out in little clouds Elsie hastened to pull her gloves on, stroking along each finger as they settled.

They meant something, these gloves; the first gift given to her by her husband. More than that though, they heralded a change much deeper in her life; one where her wants, her desires were perhaps a heavier consideration now than her needs.

That wasn’t to say she was becoming frivolous, heavens no. But she hadn’t needed these leather gloves - fur lined and coloured to match her winter coat. Yet Charles had bought them for her anyway, rather than the more practical purchase of a set of handkerchiefs as she had suggested.

What was it he’d said; that a husband should buy something special for his wife’s birthday?

The truth was she would have been more than happy with the ‘kerchiefs had he not been so inclined to grant her a more whimsical wish. And so the gloves had appeared wrapped in green paper beside a plate of toast and a tea cup when she woke on her birthday and her husband had looked quite the smug man when she opened them. She truly hadn’t realised he had noticed her looking at them in the little haberdashery in Ripon.

“Penny for your thoughts.” She jumped a little at the deep voice, already reaching out to steady herself against his arm.

“Goodness, you scared me.” The fingers of his hand wrapped around her own on his arm, squeezing gently. She peered into the dark space beside her, hardly seeing him but for the puffs of breath appearing just above her forehead. “What are you doing lurking about out here? You’ll catch your death.”

Allowing herself to be tugged closer, she settled against his side as they continued back towards their cottage. There was hardly an inch between them now when they walked, and it was a little shaming to realise how little different that was to their habits before their marriage. Still, they hadn’t dared to grasp onto each other like this, so that was certainly something to remember. And it was a moot point now anyway.

“I’m fine, it takes more than a bit of winter air to take me out. You couldn’t think I’d leave you to walk home unaccompanied?”

Of course she hadn’t. Not really, not even though they could both concede that she had won their argument about just this last night.

Honestly, what sort of mischief did he really believe she would get upto in the five minutes between the Abbey and the cottage? As though she would have the energy for anything besides.

“You are a worrier, Mr Carson.” She allowed her head to touch against his shoulder for a brief moment. She did appreciate him.

“Perhaps if you didn’t provide me with so many opportunities to worry, Mrs Carson…” His grumble was belied by another squeeze of her hand.

“Let’s not start again tonight, Charlie. I’m too tired and you’re here now anyway.“ 

It would have been for just the one night after all. With Mr Barrow laid up with a nasty cough and both Andy and Mr Bates busy still with the small dinner party. She could have taken herself home this once without one of the men to accompany her.

“I hope you’re not working too hard, Elsie.” He surrendered the argument before it could begin. “You’ve been tired all week.”

“Well the new Butler is quite the taskmaster, it’s fortunate I escape at all each night.” Her joke fell flat with another puff of his breath into the night air.

She had been tired this week, more than she had for some time, and he had been worried about her, she knew. He’d taken to having their dinner ready upon her arrival these past few nights. Nothing too taxing; they were still neither of them up to complex and involved recipes. But his potatoes had improved and he had become quite the dab hand with a bit of mutton and some mint leaves.

Stopping them in the lane, the light from their living room just visible ahead, Elsie nudged at her husband until he turned towards her, close enough that she could see him.

“Really, Charles. I’m fine.” He opened his mouth and she placed a hand against his coat buttons to still him. “Yes, I’m tired; this week has been busy and with both Anna and Mr Barrow out, I’m not too proud to say it has been hard, but it’s almost over now.”

He clasped her hand between both of his, lifting it from his chest to his lips. She felt the heat of him through the soft leather. “I don’t want you to work yourself ill.”

In that moment she understood. She understood Charles’s recent descent into anxiety, his concern for the long hours she had been working since the latest flu strain infected the Abbey. She understood even, his insistence that she not be left to walk alone this night. She had been a fool to think he hadn’t noticed.

Twisting her fingers within his hold, she tugged until his hands and hers were caught, pressed tightly between their chests. “I stood up too fast, Charlie. We hadn’t yet eaten and I moved faster than I should have. It was just a dizzy spell.” Jiggling their hands, she pressed. “I’m not ill, I promise you.”

She could feel him studying her, looking past her words for the truth and though it galled her, she couldn’t rightly refuse him his mistrust, not in this. But there was nothing deeper for him to find this time. Her work was tiring, but these past weeks and months she had felt healthier, younger even than ever before. The blush of their romance had certainly not yet faded.

She knew the moment he believed her, the tension slipping from him and she resisted the pull to lean up into him. It might be dark and deserted on their lane, but he wouldn’t thank her for the intimacy of a kiss there. Still, however resisted, the temptation was strong having seen again how fully she had been given his heart.

He said nothing of it, of course. Pulling his hands from hers and gently steering her around by the shoulders until they could continue walking.

“Andrew will walk you back tomorrow night.” He said as the ground crunched beneath their feet once again.

“Charles–” She began, but they had reached their gate and she could see in the slight gap of the curtains, the warmth of the fire, a blanket laid out ready for them across the arm of the settee. And he had been so worried for her over nothing. “Okay.”

It was, she thought as she slipped through the doorway beneath Charles’s raised arm, always nice to surprise her husband.

The house smelt of rich gravy and rosemary and her stomach gave a low gurgle as she removed her hat.

Charles took it from her and helped her out of her coat. “Go warm up by the fire, it’ll be another few minutes.” And then he was gone through to the kitchen.

He worried incessantly and he thought her more fragile than her pride and temper could stomach, but he was not a bad sort.

On the little table beside the settee sat their books and his spectacles and two glasses of red left out to air. She thought she could hear his voice, a soft hum echoing through the hallway back to her.

No, Charles Carson was not a bad sort at all.


End file.
